This Isn't Hogwarts
by Swing Girl At Heart
Summary: Mr. Schue forces Karofsky to join the Glee club, just as they're gearing up to put on the most totally awesome musical ever to grace YouTube.  Harry Potter nerdiness ensues.
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

Dave didn't think he'd ever been quite this miserable in his life, and that included the time in fifth grade when everyone found out that he'd been the first one to grow pubic hair. He winced and held the ice pack to the massive bruise forming over his eye, silently fuming at the stupid Glee club, their stupid teacher, stupid Finn Hudson, and stupid Kurt Hummel. He hated them all.

He heard the door to the nurse's office swing open, and a few seconds later the curtain surrounding the exam table he was sitting on was pushed back, revealing Santana staring at him disapprovingly, still clothed in her frumpy costume from rehearsal. She'd tied her frizzed-up hair back, though, making her face appear even harsher than usual.

"What do you want?" he snapped, keeping his eyes on the floor.

Santana huffed through her nose and snatched the ice pack from him, pressing it against his bruise hard enough so that Dave was pretty sure she was making it worse. "What, a girl can't visit her boyfriend after he got the shit kicked out of him by a guy with less coordination than a two-year-old?" she retorted dryly.

"Shut up."

"You know, the more you freak out any time someone calls you gay, the more people are going to figure out that you're barfing rainbows in your closet." Dave said nothing, and after a few moments of silence, Santana continued. "I don't understand you. Don't you like performing? You had fun with _Thriller_."

Dave sighed. "I don't think we should date any more."

Santana didn't bat an eye. "That's fine," she said, moving the ice pack to his split lip. He figured that since Prom was over and done with, she didn't need him any more. "But tell me why you can't seem to be in the same room as Finn without starting a headbashing contest."

"I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled.

Santana tossed the ice pack on the bench beside him. "Clean up your own damn face, then." Once she was gone, Dave picked it back up.

Stupid Glee.

* * *

><p>It had all started two weeks after Prom when Mr. Schuester had pulled Dave into his office after class. Dave sat in the chair across from Schuester's desk and asked what he wanted to talk to him about.<p>

Schuester regarded him with a strange mix of sympathy and sternness. "You're falling behind on your Spanish homework," he said. "You have been for the past few months, actually. I'm starting to worry about your grade."

"Yeah, sorry," Dave said, shifting in his seat. "I've just been having trouble keeping up with everything lately."

"I don't want to pry, Dave, but is there something going on at home?"

Dave shook his head. "No, nothing like that."

When Dave didn't offer any further explanation, Schuester leaned his elbows on the desktop and began to rattle on about how he just wanted to help. Dave turned out the lecture, nodding every couple minutes, until he heard the phrase "join Glee club."

He did a double take. "Wait, you want me to do _what?_"

"I want you to join Glee," Schuester repeated, holding up a hand to stop Dave's protests. "It'll just be for a few weeks, until the end of the school year. If you join, I can give you enough extra credit so you can stay on the football team next year."

"Can't I do something else? Like, I don't know, extra study hall or something?"

"Dave, this isn't just about homework and grades. It's about you."

Dave stopped at that. "I don't get it."

"You've been a member of the Bully Whips for about two weeks now, but I think it's time you took it to the next level. I've already talked this over with Miss Pillsbury and Principal Figgins and they agree."

"But I've been doing awesome with the Bully Whips!" Dave complained. "You think I _want _to wear a beret in front of the whole school?"

"The work you've been doing so far is really great," Schuester agreed with a nod. "But if you really meant the apologies you gave to Kurt and the rest of the club, then you can't just do one thing and leave it at that. You have to go all the way, and I think that the next step you take should be experiencing for yourself what it's like on their side of the tracks."

"_Every single person_ in this school is going to make fun of me," Dave insisted, reaching for a Hail Mary even though he was ninety percent sure it wouldn't work. "Even Azimio'll probably slushie me."

Schuester didn't take the bait. "I hate to say it, Dave, but I think that might be what you need."

* * *

><p>Dave stood outside the door to the choir room for several minutes on Monday afternoon, trying to decide whether or not to go in. It wasn't too late to back out. He could just turn around, walk to his car, and go home.<p>

But, damn it, he _really_ wanted to be on the football team next year.

Steeling his nerves, he finally forced himself to push open the door.

The Glee kids were all clumped together on the risers, talking and laughing amongst themselves, but as soon as Dave entered, every single head turned in his direction, their eyes either widening in shock or narrowing in suspicion. Mr. Schuester, who had been standing by the piano sorting through stacks of sheet music, was the only one to greet him with a calm "Hey, Dave, we were just about to start. Grab a seat."

Dave silently took a chair away from the rest of the kids. Rachel and the Asian chick both shot him dirty looks over their shoulder, and Mercedes was the first to demand, "Mr. Schue, what the _hell_ is he doing here?"

"I have to admit I'm confused as well," Rachel added. "Didn't the football boys already serve their time in the Glee club?"

"Dave is joining us until the end of the year."

The room suddenly _erupted_ into loud protests, and Schuester nearly had to yell to get them to quiet down. "Guys! Relax. First of all, it's only until school lets out for the summer, and it's up to Dave whether he joins again next year. Second, since Nationals is over, you don't need to compete with him. And third, our goal from now until the summer is to garner interest for next semester so that we can try to secure another few members. Having the Prom King in the group will probably make Glee seem cooler to the people who think it isn't."

There was a smattering of grumbles as the group considered his logic, but there were no more outbursts of rage. Dave was surprised at how quickly Schuester had managed to convince them without revealing the real reason that Dave had joined.

"Okay, no more arguing, guys," Schuester ordered, retrieving a thick stack of stapled pamphlets from the piano top and handing them out. "This is going to be your assignment from now until the end of the year. In order to get people to think that Glee club is cool, we need to be performing something that's cool."

Rachel immediately cut in. "Um, no offense, Mr. Schue, but we tried that approach at the beginning of this year and it didn't work at all."

"Actually, it _did_ work, but you sent the top candidate to a crack den instead of the choir room," Quinn snapped.

"…Right," Schuester tried to keep the group's attention on track. "Which is why this time, instead of performing one or two spontaneous numbers in public, we're putting on a musical."

"Do you not remember what happened with _Rocky Horror_?" Kurt interrupted. "This plan is already doomed to fail, and we haven't even put it in motion."

Schuester smiled and patiently said, "Ladies and gentlemen, please take a look at the title page of your scripts."

Dave frowned in confusion and, along with the rest of the kids, glanced down at the packet he'd been given. Only four words graced the front page:

_A Very Potter Musical_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This was actually inspired by a review submitted by Rapp Fan to my other Glee-and-Harry-Potter-nerdyness fic titled _Of Comparisons And Harry Potter_, which you should read if you haven't. So a huge, massive, totally awesome THANK YOU to Rapp for giving me the spark to start this fire. And also, thanks to SpookyKat (ever my braintwin) for helping me come up with the title.**_  
><em>


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Oh my Wizard God, I logged onto my email this morning to find that it was CLOGGED with alerts. Thank you guys so much! Last chapter I forgot to acknowledge the Hank half of YouTube's VlogBrothers for also inspiring the title (although he has no idea).**

* * *

><p><em>Chapter Two<em>

As much as he enjoyed the Harry Potter franchise (books, movies, video games, the whole deal), Dave wasn't really sure how he felt about this. He'd never seen _A Very Potter Musical_ all the way through – the one time he'd tried to watch it he'd made it halfway through the opening number and lost interest, mainly because musicals simply weren't his thing. It was weird when the frolicking nun started singing about hills, boring when the farm girl twittered about not needing a man in her life, and just plain sketchy when bug-eyed man with the droopy hat started feeling up a stuffed mannequin to the beat of an imaginary orchestra. (And yeah, Dave had seen all three of those movies – why is that so hard to believe?)

"Mr. Schue, this is a _brilliant_ move – nothing is cooler than Harry Potter!" Rachel was exclaiming as the rest of the club muttered amongst themselves in various degrees of excitement. "How did you come up with this? I've only heard you suggest numbers from mainstream musicals before and AVPM is more of a cult piece."

"I posted a question on Yahoo asking for suggestions of cool musicals that didn't demand too many performers, and someone sent me the link to it," Schuester answered. Then he grinned, adding, "And I will freely admit that I stayed up most of the night watching it."

"As much as I think this is going to be awesome," Artie cut in, pushing his glasses up his nose, "don't you think that there's some things in AVPM that are bound to cause some angry parents? I mean, there's makeout scenes and a lot of swearing."

"One step ahead of you. The scripts you guys have is the censored version – I changed the words around in some spots to make it more PG-13, and the kissing scenes will be edited as well."

Dave didn't quite feel comfortable enough to offer his two cents with this crowd, but if he didn't say something now, then he was definitely headed for the gallows as far as his popularity was concerned. Harry Potter or not, musicals weren't going to fly with the jocks of McKinley, and it seemed that Dave was the only one in this room who understood that. "Um…I don't want to be the buzzkill here," he started, growing a little uncomfortable as the rest of the kids frowned at him (it looked like most of them had forgotten he was there and were unhappy to be reminded). "But isn't this musical kind of…dorky?"

"In the best way possible," Artie quipped with a grin.

"What do you mean?" Schuester asked, allowing Dave to elaborate.

Dave struggled to word his argument in a way that wouldn't upset the others too much – he just wanted to hang out and sway in the background without conflict until the school year ended, and then he'd be back to his normal life. "I'm just saying that doing a musical about Harry Potter isn't going to be enough. I know what Azimio and the other guys think of this stuff. It's not gonna cut it."

"He actually has a point, Mr. Schue," Quinn sighed. "It has nothing to do with Harry Potter – it's us."

Schuester shook his head. "Look, guys, it takes a lot of time to put together a play, and we don't have enough. I've already made all the musical arrangements, reserved the stage, and started looking for props and costumes. We can't start from scratch this close to the end of the year."

Rachel shrugged. "It seems that Dave is the only one really reluctant to perform AVPM. The majority votes in favor of Hogwarts."

Dave huffed through his nose and sat back, a little offended that his opinion had barely been considered.

"Okay, now for who's who—" Schuester started.

"Finn and I will play Ron and Hermione," Rachel piped up, sending a sickening glance of adoration Finn's way.

"Actually, Rachel, I've already decided on casting."

"You mean we don't get to choose?" Mercedes demanded.

"I want you guys to try something new," Schuester said, hooking his thumbs into his pockets. "As I said before Nationals, you're all great with the singing, and you're dancing's come a long way. But one thing we've never worked on is acting, and that is a huge component of any performance, even if you aren't an actor. So, here's what's going to happen – each of you is going to play the character most opposite from who you are."

"Does that mean I have to play Voldemort?" Brittany asked miserably.

"So who's playing Hermione?" Rachel shrilled, already becoming furious that her leading role was being taken away from her.

"Santana."

Dave's eyebrows shot towards his hairline as he glanced at his sort-of-not-really girlfriend. She looked just as taken aback. A split second later, she crossed her arms and said, "I am _not_ playing the bucktoothed Queen of Frump."

Schuester shrugged. "Then you don't get to be the leading lady."

Santana's lip curled for a moment. "Fine. But only if I get to have a say in the costumes."

"Sure."

Rachel held up a hand. "So who am _I_ playing?" she shrilled.

"Ginny Weasley."

Rachel's jaw dropped in astonishment. "I'm playing the _sidekick_?"

"I figured you'd be okay with it—"

"What would make you think that!"

"—because Ginny's the only girl who gets an entire song to herself."

"…Oh. Right." Rachel sighed overdramatically. "Well, if I must, I must."

"Who's playing Voldemort?" asked Finn.

"Me," Puck answered with a smug grin that was mirrored on Lauren's face (Dave thought it was a little unsettling how Puck and Lauren could appear to be such polar opposites from each other and yet share the exact same expression without planning or realizing it).

Schuester shook his head. "No, Sam's Voldemort."

Puck frowned indignantly. "Sam is this club's Justin Bieber – he can't be Voldemort. At least I'm intimidating."

"Puck, you're supposed to be playing opposites," Mr. Schuester repeated patiently. "Which is why Sam is playing Voldemort, and you're playing Ron."

"_WHAT._"

"And we're going to need to find you a wig for that."

"Hell no, Mr. Schue! I am not playing a Weasley! The whole damn family tree exists just for comic relief!"

"Wait, if I'm playing Voldemort," Sam interrupted with a confused look, "then that means that for most of the play I have to share a costume with Quirrell. Who's playing him?"

At the question, Schuester's mouth curled into a slight smile, as if he were trying not to chuckle.

"Dave."

…

Fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

Over the next two days, the choir room was transformed from a music classroom into a strange combination of a woodshop and a costume closet. The club continuously switched between working to build props, sets, and design costumes and rehearsing in the auditorium where they could adjust to the space of the stage as they pulled kinks out of the choreography. Dave went along with the preparations, not speaking up or objecting to many things and just generally trying to stay out of everyone's way, until Mercedes presented him with his costume.

"Why's it so big?" he asked with a frown, holding up the widely-cut robe and struggling to figure out how he'd put it on. "I'm not that fat."

"That's where Sam goes," Mercedes answered distractedly as she pulled a needle through what looked like a giant stuffed eyeball (Dave guessed that it was part of the dragon).

"Huh?"

She looked up. "Haven't you seen the play?"

"No…"

She snorted. "Then you're in for a surprise."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Voldemort and Quirrell are… bromantically involved."

Dave's eyes widened, and Artie cut in from where he was sitting next to Mercedes, working on a cardboard cutout of a goat. "Relax, dude, it's acting."

"Lemme see how the turban fits," Mercedes said, gesturing to a twisted pile of cloth on the table next to him. After a fight about her being cast as Crabbe, Mr. Schuester had bribed her with the position of Head Costume Designer, and she'd been enjoying bossing people around a little more than she probably should have.

Dave picked it up and slipped it onto his head, grunting in annoyance when it dropped over his eyes. Mercedes laughed and admitted that she'd overestimated the size of his skull, taking the turban back. She then called Sam over from where he was sawing long dowels into pieces for their wands. "Can you guys put on your robe and try moving around in it? I want to see if it's too tight in any place."

Sam made no argument, but Dave hesitated. "Do we have to do it now?" he muttered.

Mercedes' eyebrows shot up. "Yeah, you do." She pushed the oversized robe towards him. "Put it on."

He grumbled and pulled it over his head, shoving his arms through the massive sleeves. The extra cloth hung around him and made him look as if he'd wilted in the sun (Artie tried and failed to suppress a laugh). Then, as Sam lifted up the back of the robe and wriggled in behind him, Dave felt his ears burn and the blood rise in his face.

"Your face matches the color of your turban," was the first deadpan comment Mercedes offered, and it only made the tips of Dave's ears heat up even more. "Now try walking." She stood up so as to have a better view of the costume's fit.

Dave shuffled forward, tripping slightly over the hem of the robe, awkwardly aware of the extra weight behind him. Sam tried to walk with him, mirroring his steps, but they stepped on each other's heels more than once. "Looks like we're gonna have to work on that," Sam chuckled.

"This is stupid," Dave said, pulling at the neck.

"I just have to shorten the hem a little and it'll be fine," Mercedes said, adjusting how the robe sat on Sam and Dave's shoulders. "But Sam's right, you'll have to work on walking."

Dave nearly snapped that regardless of how they were walking it was still stupid, but he decided against it. If he'd learned one thing during his last few days stuck with the bottom of the social heap, it was that Mercedes was the most unpredictable of them all, and he didn't want to end up on her bad side. Having a black chick angry at him would just make all this worse.

Mercedes, still testing how the costume would look, added the turban to the mix, fitting it onto Dave's head and pulling the cloth hanging down from behind over Sam's head, regarding it all with a judgmental eye.

Brittany came up to them then, a short-cut platinum blonde wig pinned crookedly on top of her real hair. "Mercedes, my hair doesn't fit," she said, tugging at the fake locks above her ear.

"You've got it on backwards," Mercedes snickered, pulling the pins out and readjusting it. "There. Perfect Malfoy."

Brittany grinned. "Thanks! Hi, Dave. I like your hat. Who's under it?"

It was another embarrassing five minutes before Mercedes let Dave and Sam out of their costume again so that she could shorten the hem. Dave brushed himself off, grimacing.

"What's your problem?" Sam asked, noticing his expression.

"Nothing," Dave snapped.

Sam's jaw muscle twitched. "Why are you here, anyways? It's obvious you don't want to be."

"No, I _really_ don't," Dave growled back. The other kids were beginning to sense a fight stirring, and they looked up from what they were doing.

"If you don't want to be here, then leave. We definitely don't need you," Sam retorted.

"Guys!" Mr. Schuester cut in, trying to keep the peace, but Dave was getting angry.

"Aren't you guys always bragging about how everyone's welcome in Glee?" Dave sneered.

"As if you'd know," Sam scoffed.

Dave lost it then, and gave Sam a rough shove.

"GUYS!" Schuester shouted, trying to make his way over to them before the fight could escalate, but the floor was nearly impossible to cross quickly, so clogged with props, tools, and half-finished costumes that there was virtually nowhere to place your feet without stepping on something or other.

Before Sam could shove Dave back, Kurt snagged Dave's arm and dragged him straight out of the choir room and into the hallway, leaving the rest of the club confused and probably a little stunned.

"Okay," Kurt began as soon as the door shut behind them. "I don't know what is going on with you, but you'd better pull your act together before one of the other guys beats the crap out of you."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Is that supposed to be threatening?"

"I am not joking, Dave. Listen to me. If any one of those guys gets into a fight with you, then the others will immediately join in, and you are not going to be the one they're defending," Kurt insisted. "Not to mention that Lauren will probably take part, and she could kick your ass single-handedly."

"Why do you care?"

"Care is a strong word," Kurt deadpanned, planting his hands on his hips. "I'm just sympathetic to what you're going through. If they do end up kicking the crap out of you, I'm not going to leap to your defense."

"Whatever."

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, Dave… I know that Mr. Schue is forcing you to be here. He did the same thing to Finn when Glee first started. Just… try not to cause any trouble, all right? It'll be over and done with sooner than you think."

Dave sighed, leaning back against the lockers. "Is it weird that I actually want the others to think I'm part of the club?"

A hint of a smile passed over Kurt's features, and he leaned against the lockers next to his former adversary. "Not at all. You'd be surprised at how quickly Puck began thinking that way after he first joined."

"I just don't want to be Quirrell," Dave complained.

"And I didn't want to be Snape," Kurt countered. "But you know what? I _rock_ this outfit."


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

After Glee had finally let out that afternoon, Dave shuffled to his locker and began to shove his textbooks into his bag (maybe if he could do his homework well enough until the end of the year, then he wouldn't need the extra credit from Glee), slamming his locker door and turning around only to receive an ice-cold splash to the face. He yelped and gritted his teeth against the frigid mix of ice, syrup, and Blue Dye number four that was now seeping into his shirt and dripping down his chest. He wiped the slushie out of his eyes and saw Azimio standing there with an empty slushie cup in his hand and a smug grin on his face.

"What the hell was that for?" Dave demanded, shoving Azimio by the shoulders.

Azimio didn't look apologetic in the least. "That was for joining the damn Glee club," he said cockily. "You don't get it do you? Just 'cause you're a football player does not make it okay for you to do whatever the hell you want. People are gonna start talking about Dave Karofsky, the latest victim of Homo Explosion."

Dave pushed him again. "I'm not gay."

"Yeah, whatever, dude," Azimio rolled his eyes. "You really wanna convince me of that? Quit singing showtunes."

"I haven't been—"

"Whatever," Azimio said again, flipping Dave off as he sauntered back down the hallway.

Dave swore loudly and drove his fist into his locker.

* * *

><p>Later, after changing into a clean-ish sweatshirt that had been sitting in his locker for several months, Dave was walking through the parking lot on his way home (his dad refused to by him a car, and he didn't live that far away) when a sleek black Navigator pulled up beside him, the window rolling down.<p>

"Hey, Dave," greeted Kurt from the driver's seat. Mercedes was sitting in the passenger seat, and he could hear a bunch of the others talking in the back seat. "We're all heading out to the mall to look for props and costumes. You want to come?"

Dave hesitated, looking back and forth between the direction of his house and Kurt's car. He considered the fact that he didn't really want to go shopping with a bunch of kids who hated him (he was pretty sure that Kurt had coerced the others into inviting him), but also that he didn't want to spend the afternoon stuck in his room with a bunch of textbooks. He sighed. At least hanging out at the mall would be somewhat social. Making a mental note to text his dad later, Dave pulled open the back door and squeezed in beside Finn, who looked disappointed that Dave had decided to come along.

The ride to the mall was _loud_. The others (Finn, Puck, Mercedes, Kurt, Santana, Brittany, Tina, and Mike) constantly alternated between gossiping, bickering about random things, and singing along whenever a song they liked came onto the radio. Dave kept his mouth shut, and no one else seemed to notice or care, but he had to admit that he found the impromptu singing entertaining (he was shocked to hear Kurt's voice drop to a bass when _Golden Years_ by David Bowie started playing).

When they finally pulled into the Southwest Lima Mall parking lot, the kids piled out of the car and headed into the building, deciding to head for the mall's costume and party store first to get the wigs they were still lacking. Dave followed a step behind, his hands shoved into his pockets (he'd left his backpack in the car). At the party store, Mike immediately pulled a giant rainbow clown wig onto his head and stuck a red nose over his real one. Tina bopped it, making it honk.

"We're going to go look for face paint," Kurt announced, walking further into the store, his arm linked with Mercedes.

Santana suddenly laughed, picking a wig off the shelf and handing it to Puck. "There's your hair, Weasley."

Puck wrinkled his nose at the thing, which looked like a dead fox. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Try it," Finn encouraged.

Puck grumbled but fitted it over his mohawk. There was a moment of silence, and then the entire group, including Dave, burst into fits of giggles in unison. Puck yanked the wig off and told them to suck it.

"You didn't have a problem with the Bieber wig," Mike observed, trying not to grin and failing miserably.

"Wait," Dave cut in. "…_Puck_ wore a Justin Bieber wig?"

"The boys went through a very…sad phase," Santana said.

"Shut up," Puck said. "I was willing to do anything to get Lauren's attention. I probably would've worn a tutu if she told me to."

Dave gaped at McKinley's resident macho-man until Puck threw the wig at him.

Kurt and Mercedes reappeared with a basket filled with face paint kits and produced a pair of round plastic glasses, which Finn snatched and tried on. "How do I look?" he asked, grinning widely. "Fit to be Harry Potter?"

Mike grabbed the glasses off his face. "No way, dude," he said. "Those are mine. You're just the spare."

Finn made a face. "At least I'm a good finder," he retorted.

"That means nothing," Mike deadpanned, pushing the glasses onto his own nose.

"Tina, let's try to find a Halloween costume or something that'll fit you," Mercedes said. "Bellatrix is going to be hard to find clothes for."

"No need. I got my costume from my own wardrobe – you can come home with me after this and see if you like it," Tina replied. "I have to admit, I'm a little nervous about my almost-sex scene with Sam."

"Ah, one of the joys of being an actor," Kurt recited, grinning ear to ear. "Having fake sex onstage in front of hundreds of people."

Dave made a face and hoped he'd never have to do that.

"I think I found the robes we were looking for," Brittany called from down the aisle.

"Britt, these are for little kids," Santana said, holding up a Harry Potter costume that looked like it belonged to an eight year old. "Let's get one for Rachel."

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, their arms full, the group paid for their merchandise and headed for the arts and crafts store on the mall's second floor to look for materials to complete the giant dragon puppet. "Hold these," Mercedes said, shoving her bags at Dave and rushing off to look at bolts of fabric. Mike and Tina disappeared in search of hoops to form the dragon's skeleton, and Puck and Finn went to look for cloth that could serve as Voldemort's hooded cape. Santana and Brittany linked pinkies and announced that they were going to find an invisibility cloak, leaving Dave and Kurt by themselves.<p>

Kurt laughed at Dave as he struggled to balance the bags that Mercedes had thrown at him and the bags he'd already been carrying. "Come on," Kurt said, heading for the back of the shop. "We need to find something to make our school robes out of." Kurt led him to an aisle where bolts of cloth lined the shelves and immediately began to pick through them.

"It was your idea to invite me with you guys, wasn't it?" Dave asked after a few minutes of silence.

Kurt frowned and turned around. "Does it really matter? You seem to be enjoying yourself."

Dave shrugged.

Kurt sighed, turning his attention back to the rolls of cloth. "You just need to give them a chance to warm up to you, Dave. And stop being so tense."

"I'm not tense."

"Yes, you are," Kurt countered, yanking a thick roll of black cotton out of the stack. "Here we go. I can tailor some good stuff out of this one."

"You know how to make clothes?"

"Sure. I made my prom outfit."

"I thought it was store-bought."

Kurt quirked an eyebrow. "What store in Ohio would sell a kilt?"

"What's a kilt?"

"Never mind."

* * *

><p>After their mall escapade was finished, the group squeezed back into Kurt's Navigator and drove to the Lima Bean to grab a coffee and meet Blaine. Dave was nervous about just hanging out with a guy he'd shoved around more than once, but said nothing. Maybe Kurt was right about him being tense all the time.<p>

When they got there, Blaine didn't seem at all surprised or bothered by Dave's presence. Dave guessed that Kurt had probably told Blaine ahead of time that he'd be there. They all retrieved their orders and gathered around two small tables pushed together in the back, Dave sitting quietly between Puck and Mercedes and feeling like he shouldn't be there as the others exchanged news and gossiped about whatever had gone down at Nationals.

"I wish we'd gotten your freak-out on tape, Santana," said Mike. "Once we got over the initial shock, it was really kind of hilarious."

Santana said something in Spanish that, even though none of them had any idea what she'd said, still managed to sound threatening.

"So how's AVPM coming along?" Blaine asked.

Kurt frowned in surprise. "How'd you know about that?"

"Mr. Schuester called me. He wants me to play Dumbledore."

"Really?"

Blaine smiled. "Yep. I'll be at rehearsal tomorrow."

"So that's why Mr. Schue didn't seem at all concerned that we didn't have someone to play Dumbledore…"

"But… don't you have school?" Tina asked.

Blaine shook his head. "Private schools get out several weeks before public schools. I'm on summer vacation."

"Lucky bastard," Puck muttered.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, people - I was having some trouble with my computer and had to switch to the old family PC, which isn't as accepting of Word documents as my Macbook is. Anyways, tomorrow evening I leave to go to vacation in Istanbul, and then from there I go to Crete until the 16th of August. I will still be able to update, but since I won't have a computer, I'll have to write any new chapters by hand and then type them up at the internet cafe, so my updating speed will most likely decrease somewhat. I haven't forgotten you, though :) Read on!**

* * *

><p><em>Chapter Five<em>

"Okay, guys," Mr. Schue said as he entered the cluttered choir room the next day at rehearsal. "Today, we start really working on your lines. But first, a very warm welcome to our guest performer, Blaine Anderson." There were a few whoops complimented by a smattering of applause as Blaine grinned and gave a small bow from his seat next to Kurt (Dave thought it was a little weird for the New Directions to be so chummy with a key member of a rival team, but whatever).

"Now," Schuester started, clapping his hands to get their attention. "We need to focus on getting all of your accents right. Because we're pressed for time, I want Mercedes, Mike, Puck, Santana, and Artie to be working on the bigger set pieces in the auditorium, since none of your characters have unusual accents, and then anyone else who gets their accent down quickly will go and help them." The kids he'd named all stood (except for Artie, of course) and headed for the door to go to the auditorium as Mr. Schue studied his clipboard. "Kurt, let's hear you first."

"_What the devil is going on heaaaaaaaah?_" Kurt drawled, eliciting several sniggers from other club members.

Mr. Schue chuckled. "Close, but try using your deeper register and making it come from the back of your throat."

"Wanky!" Santana called over her shoulder as she followed the other four kids out of the room.

"Santana!" Schue warned, but the door shut before she could hear him (and even if she had, she probably wouldn't have listened).

"Okay, am I the only one who's not really okay with having that douchewad in the club?" Puck asked once the small group was heading down the hallway towards the auditorium.

"What the hell is a douchewad?" Mike muttered, not really expecting an answer.

"Nope," Artie said as he rolled along beside the mohawked boy. "I mean, I have no idea what he's doing here, and with his history, I'm more than a little suspicious."

"Isn't it obvious?" Mercedes cut in. "Mr. Schue is forcing him to be in the club."

"Why would he do that?"

"Duh! He's trying to push Karofsky to kiss and make up with us. And don't act like it's an unusual thing for Mr. Schue to do – he blackmailed Finn to be in the club at the beginning of last year."

Artie chuckled. "That man is devious."

Santana snorted. "Mr. Schue is about as devious as Brittany's cat."

"It really doesn't matter why he's here, though," Mike said, steering the conversation back to its original topic. "I think the main problem is how we deal with Karofsky now that we're stuck with him." Mike pulled open the door to the auditorium and held it open for Artie (they were entering through the back entrance where the handicap ramp was located, a habit that all the Gleeks had subconsciously developed whenever Artie was with them).

"I say we corner him and kick the crap out of him," Puck suggested with a smirk. "Make sure he knows he can't mess with us."

"…I don't think that's very diplomatic," Artie said, trying to hide a grin. "But we'll keep it on the list."

* * *

><p>During the second half of rehearsal that day, the club reconvened in the auditorium to practice the opening scenes. It was going well (except for one instance where Santana broke character to snap, "Mr. Schue, if Kurt says I have baby fat again, I will go all Lima Heights on this joint! <em>¡No me gusta!<em>") until Dave and Sam's entrance.

The kids playing students were grouped on either side of the stage, sitting on benches and listening to Blaine and Kurt. Kurt, decked out in his black robes and almost-shoulder-length wig, stood center-stage and spoke loudly enough so that Mr. Schue could hear him from his seat in the audience. "Traditionally, the House with the most points at the end of the year would win the House Cup; however, this year we're doing things a bit differently. Here to introduce it is our new professor of the Dark Arts, Professor Quirrell!" With a flourish, Kurt held an arm out to where Dave and Sam were just shuffling onto the stage, awkwardly trying not to step on each other's feet.

Unfortunately, they were both trying to lead despite the fact that Sam was hidden beneath the turban and couldn't see anything (not to mention he was walking backwards, so Dave should've been leading in the first place). Sam's sneaker scraped down the back of Dave's heel and trapped his shoelace, pulling the knot out and making Dave trip rather violently. And since Dave was top-heavy to begin with but also burdened with a lopsided center of gravity thanks to being stuck in the same costume as Sam (he didn't care what Mercedes said – it wasn't a robe, it was a _dress_), they both toppled to the ground with about as much grace as a drunken elephant, and there was a _rrrrrrrrrrip_ so loud that Mr. Schue could easily hear it from where he was sitting.

Most of the kids either gasped or stood up to see if they were all right (Dave suspected that they were really only worried about Sam), but Mercedes launched to her feet with her hands planted firmly on her hips. "You did _not_ just ruin the costume I worked for hours on!" she cried as Dave and Sam struggled out of the robe in order to stand back up. But neither of them needed to answer, because the seam from the hem almost to the armpit had been torn completely open.

Dave huffed frustratedly as soon as he was (finally) out of the costume and on his feet again. "Mr. Schue, I can't do this," he said, yanking off the turban. "This whole play is just stupid."

Schuester sighed, standing up. "One of the things that performers have to embrace is to overcome their fear of looking silly, Dave."

"I'm _not_ a performer! I don't sing and I don't dance! It's _gay_!"

The words were out of Dave's mouth before he knew that he was saying them, and then there was a split second of silence in which Dave's heart squeezed into his throat. The entire club, including Schuester, said nothing and just stared at him as if they'd expected this to happen.

Then, Rachel stood up, drawing herself up to her full height, marched over to him, and slapped him soundly across the face. "It's clear that your apologies earlier meant absolutely nothing," she spat, somehow managing to appear threatening despite the fact that she didn't even come up to Dave's shoulder. "We do not tolerate any kind of hatred in this club, and you've made it painfully obvious that you can't get past your medieval prejudices. I think I speak for the entire club when I say that we don't want you here anymore."

"But—" Dave stammered. "I didn't— It just slipped out!"

"That doesn't change the fact that that's what you've been thinking all along," Rachel snapped, crossing her arms.

Dave looked desperately to Kurt, who was silently watching him with more disappointment than anyone else in the auditorium. Anger suddenly surged up in Dave's gut, and for the second time he spoke without thinking. "This is _your_ fault, Hummel!"

Before that moment, Dave would never have guessed that Finn possessed any gears other than "stop" and "slow" (except when the cafeteria was serving Sloppy Joes), but in only a second, Finn had leaped up from his seat on the benches and literally _thrown _Dave to the floor. Dave barely had time to react before Finn was on top of him, driving his knuckles over and over into Dave's face. His arms instinctively went up to protect his head, which only made Finn start punching his stomach and ribs. He briefly registered that Schuester was yelling at them as he ran up to the stage, and most of the other kids were either shouting for Finn to stop or (in Puck's case) egging him on and (in Lauren's case) giving him hitting tips.

Finally, Schuester grabbed Finn by the back of his Hogwarts robes and yanked him off of Dave, who now had a sluggishly bleeding split lip, a bloody nose, and several bruises on his face and abdomen that he could feel slowly forming beneath the skin. "Finn, I'll see you in my office!" Schuester snapped, helping Dave sit up.

Finn looked surprised that he was in trouble, and started to protest.

"_Now_, Finn!"

Finn flinched a little at the sudden change in volume, but then threw his costume on the ground and stormed off, the backstage door slamming behind him.

Schuester pulled Dave onto his feet, keeping a hold on Dave's upper arm, and spoke to the rest of the club. "As for you guys, rehearsal's out early. I'll see you tomorrow."

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><p><strong>AN: Drama, drama, drama. Please leave a review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So sorry for the delay, folks - I'm no longer on vacation, so updating speed should increase now.**

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><p><em>This Isn't Hogwarts<em>

At this point, Santana had been sort-of-not-dating Karofsky for a little over a month, and nothing had changed for her. Well, at least, not the way she'd hoped. Brittany was still with Artie, even though that asshole had called her stupid. Okay, yeah, Santana sort of called Brittany dumb all the time, but Britt-Britt understood that it was all out of love. That was how people showed affection in the Lopez clan - toddlers would scratch and pull each other's hair, guys would punch and tease each other about whether or not they had game with girls, and then the girls would insult each other until it turned from friendly mocking into an actual bitch fight. Santana honestly did not know any other way. She supposed the only thing that had changed since her ruse of a Prom Queen campaign was that she'd finally accepted that she might have to let Britt decide for herself who she wanted to date. Okay, maybe she hadn't _accepted _that yet, but there was at least a tiny germinating seed of the idea that she'd have to back off.

She scowled at her reflection in the girls' bathroom mirror as she pulled her tangled hair back into a tight ponytail. Brittany had done a little too good of a job frizzing it up for the rehearsal that day, and Santana suspected that she'd have to spend at least twenty minutes brushing her hair once she got home. Still grimacing, she readjusted the bleak gray sweatshirt she'd been forced into wearing and loosened the red-and-yellow striped tie before slinging her backpack over her shoulder, picking up the black Hogwarts robe from where it was hanging on the hook by the sink at the end, and striding out into the hall. Most of the other kids in the club had already left, as well as Brittany, who'd gotten a ride from Kurt, so rather than make her way to the choir room, she headed down the corridor in the opposite direction, towards the Health Office.

Since she was beginning to understand that there was really no point in manipulating Brittany - the blonde was ultimately very smart, just not in the ways that you would expect, and she'd eventually figure it out and be _very _pissed off - Santana decided that she'd have to get rid of the dead weight. After all, she'd been over to Dave's house a couple times to meet his dad, and Paul Karofsky was a _seriously _bad cook. She could _not_ handle another one of his burned-on-the-outside-and-raw-on-the-inside meatloafs. She didn't even like meatloaf when it was cooked well.

Setting her bag and robe down on the patient chair just inside the Health Office's front door, she made a beeline for the privacy curtain at the back and whipped it back. Dave, sitting on the exam bed with an ice pack held to his eye, barely even glanced up before resuming his miserable glare at Santana's shoes. She crossed her arms.

"What do you want?" he mumbled, wincing as the cut on his lip was still very fresh.

She scoffed, marching forward to snatch the ice pack from him. "What, a girl can't visit her dumbass boyfriend after he gets the crap kicked out of him by a guy with less coordination than a two-year-old?" She pressed the ice into the black-and-blue spot on his temple, making him hiss.

"Shut up."

"Oh, grow some balls, will you? And give me a real comeback."

He said nothing, nor did he look her in the eye. God, he was so pathetic. She'd have to get this break-up thing over with quickly so that he wouldn't be annoyingly whiny for the next month or so. "You know, the more you freak out every time someone calls you gay, the more easy it's going to be for them to figure out that you're barfing rainbows in your closet." Aggravatingly, Dave still didn't reply. She sighed. "I don't get you. I thought you liked performing. Didn't you have fun with _Thriller_?"

"I don't think we should date any more."

...Well, that just made the break-up a whole lot easier.

"That's fine," she responded, moving the ice pack to a yellowish bruise on his cheek. "But tell me why you can't seem to be in the same room as Finn without starting a headbashing contest."

"I don't want to talk about it."

She sighed, exasperated with him. She tossed the ice pack down on the exam bed next to him; since she was no longer dating him, she was freed from any and all obligations to stand by his bedside, figuratively speaking. "Fine. Screw it. Clean up your own damn face, then." She marched back through the curtain, grabbed her things, and headed for the parking lot.

* * *

><p>Dave was a wallower. He tended to focus on a problem for a lot longer than necessary, just moping about how inconvenient said problem was for awhile before actually trying to come up with a solution. Rachel Berry was the opposite, and loudly so, so Dave wasn't really all that surprised when he looked up to see the smallish brunette standing where Santana had been standing only ten minutes before her. Unlike earlier in rehearsal, Rachel didn't look angry, or at least was trying her best to appear that way.<p>

"Hi," she said lamely.

"Um... why are you here?" Dave asked. "Don't you, like, hate my guts right now?"

She sighed and came over to stand in front of him. "Yes. I really do. But it was foolish of me and the rest of the club to just assume that you'd be able to change your views overnight."

"...Still not really sure where you're going with this."

Rachel crossed her arms, clearly uncomfortable with being anywhere near him. "I'm saying that we overreacted. You did too, but we overreacted to your overreaction."

Dave frowned. What she'd just said made little to no sense, and it still didn't shed any light on why she was here. "Are you...apologizing?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, no, I'm just... I think it would be a good idea for you to come back."

Okay, that confused him even more. "Why? You all hate me, and you said it yourself - you don't want me in the club."

"Do _you_ want to be in the club?"

Dave immediately opened his mouth to say no, but he knew that if he didn't stay through to the end of the year, then it would be no football team for him next year, and he might as well kiss any chance he'd ever have at a sports scholarship goodbye. Not to mention what little popularity he had after he'd joined Glee in the first place.

A tiny hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Rachel's mouth. "That's what I thought."

"Okay, maybe Finn knocked my brain around a bit, but I'm still really fuzzy on why you're talking to me."

"Look, you have two options," Rachel said, counting off on her fingers. "One - you could leave the club officially, go back to your life as if you'd never joined, and try to salvage what popularity you've got left. And two - you could try to apologize to the other kids in Glee so that they'd let you re-join. You receive enough extra credit to pull your grades up and join football this fall, not to mention the likelihood that if you stay in the club, it'll be easier for your admittedly medieval opinions of homosexuality to be swayed."

"Why would I want my opinions to change?"

Rachel sighed, all traces of anger on her face disappearing. Dave felt a little patronized when he saw that the anger was replaced with pity. "Is all this hate you're holding in really making your life better? You've gotten into fist-fights, delivered death threats, made someone else's life hell, been suspended..."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Dave interrupted. "But what's in it for you if I come back to Glee? All I've heard about you is that you'll do whatever it takes to win, but I'd just be in your way."

"Well. We do need someone to play Quirrell. And, like Mr. Schue said, we need to recruit new members for next year, and having the Prom King in the club is probably a good idea."

Dave sighed, letting the ice pack fall into his lap. "Even if I apologize, they're not gonna listen."

Rachel smiled. "That's why you're going to do a duet. With me."

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><p><strong>AN: I'm working on the upcoming number now, and it's one of the most fun musical scenes I've ever written. Review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Long chapter is long.**

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><p><em>This Isn't Hogwarts<em>

When Dave finally arrived home that evening, his father was sitting in the living room watching the news. Paul looked up, saw the bruises covering his son's face, sighed, and said, "Again, Dave?"

"Sorry."

Paul muted the television and stood up, brushing a hand over his goatee. "You want to tell me what happened?"

Dave shrugged. "I said something I shouldn't've, and I got beat up."

Paul considered this for a minute, then nodded. "Well, as long as you understand why it happened. Are you in trouble for it?"

"I don't really know. I don't think it's anything big."

"Are you suspended? Extra detention?"

"No."

Paul nodded a second time. "Okay. There's ice in the freezer." Dave turned towards the kitchen. "Hey, there's a basketball game on if you want to watch," Paul said.

"Uh, no, I'm okay. I've got some work to do." Dave shrugged again. "History stuff."

"Okay, sure. You need any help with it, you let me know. I didn't get my masters in European war history for nothing."

As Paul went back to the television, Dave grabbed some ice from the freezer along with a can of Coke and headed upstairs, shutting his bedroom door behind him. He did have work to do, but it wasn't for history class; not many people knew that he was actually really good at history and he hadn't needed his dad's help with it since the fourth grade. Instead, Rachel had given him the assignment to find a song that would be fitting for the duet she'd so casually thrust upon him. He'd protested by saying that he had little to no music knowledge and that they'd probably be better off with something she knew, but she'd rolled her eyes and said decisively, "Don't be ridiculous, Dave, it's _your _apology. _You_'ve got to choose the song."

He pulled out of his pocket a piece of paper with Rachel's ridiculously neat handwriting listing the qualifications she'd defined for the song. According to her, it had to be A) in Dave's wheelhouse, B) of a subject matter he was somewhat uncomfortable with, and C) lyrics that obviously stated that he was at least willing to try his best to be part of the Glee club for as long as he was a member. Dave shook his head, having absolutely how he was going to find a song that met Rachel's freakishly specific standards. He sighed, put the bag of ice against the side of his head, and dove into Internet Land.

He wasn't entirely sure how long it had been when he loaded yet another YouTube video, predicting that this song would be just as useless as all the others he'd found, and realized that he'd finally found a song that fit the bill perfectly. Rachel had left him with the instructions to "go home, get on the computer, find a song, and then call me as soon as you find one so that I can start working on the arrangement immediately," and had written her phone number on the top right corner of the sheet of paper she'd given him, punctuating it with a shiny gold star sticker. Now, Dave grabbed his cell phone off the side of his desk and punched in her number.

A groggy and slightly confused voice answered on the fourth ring. "_Hello?_"

"Rachel?"

"_Um... yeah, who is this?_"

"It's Dave."

There was a pause. "_Oh. Oh, right. What is it?_"

Dave frowned. "Um... you told me to call you as soon as I found the right song."

"_I didn't mean in the middle of the night_."

Dave glanced at the tiny clock in the bottom corner of his laptop screen. It read _12:52 A.M._ "O-oh, uh... whoops?" He hadn't even noticed that it had gotten dark outside, let alone that it was after midnight.

Rachel sighed on the other end. "_That's okay, just give me the name of the song and where I can find it, and I'll listen to it in the morning while I'm on the elliptical._"

Dave read her the keywords that she'd need, and he could hear her scratching them down on a notepad.

"_Okay, thanks, Dave._" She yawned. "_Good night._"

"Uh, yeah, and sorry about waking you-"

_Click._

"-up."

Dave shook his head, glanced at the tiny clock again, and reached into his backpack to grab his history homework.

* * *

><p>Tina tried to stay out of drama as much as possible. She loved gossiping about other people's relationship troubles, hairboob jobs, style changes, family hardships, etcetera, but when any of that entered her own life she felt pretty miserable, so she made a point to stay on the sidelines as much as she could. Which, in this particular club, was a lot easier said than done. Still, she liked to think that she'd done a pretty good job of it, all things considered. When Babygate had gone down, she'd said nothing. When Artie had started dating Brittany for reasons that still remained dubious, she'd accepted it without so much as a word. When Karofsky had first strode into the choir room and awkwardly taken a seat, she hadn't protested. But now, watching him hesitantly walk back in two days after blatantly insulting both Kurt and the rest of the club, Tina was the first to stand up and voice her opinion.

"_No_. You are _not_ just waltzing back in here and expecting us to pretend nothing happened," she snapped, pointing an accusing finger at him. Most of the other kids had also dropped what they were doing and had stood up, either glaring at the football player or watching him questioningly. Even Mr. Schue looked surprised.

"Get the hell out of here, man," Finn spat from the other side of the room, sanding down the dowels for their wands.

Dave opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly Rachel was in front of him, facing the rest of the club. "Wait," she said. "I asked Dave to come back."

"_WHAT?_" shouted Finn, Mercedes, Tina, and Puck in unison.

"Why would you do that!"

"Whose side are you on?"

Tina looked over at Kurt, who had been working on sewing cloth onto the skeleton of the dragon but was now watching the exchange in silence. He appeared neither angry nor offended that Karofsky was there, and seemed to be genuinely curious as to what the football player would do or say.

"Hear me out," Rachel said quickly, holding up her hands in a peacemaking gesture. "We need people to join next year, which means we need someone to play Quirrell now, and we don't have time to find someone else. Dave has assured me that he's truly sorry about what happened, and maybe I haven't forgiven him, but I'm at least willing to let him try to make amends. I know that _my_ forgiveness isn't the most important-" Her gaze flitted over to Kurt but then refocused on the entire club. "-but maybe you all, or at least some of you, could follow my example."

"Rachel, were you even _there_?" Finn asked incredulously.

Her jaw twitched slightly. Tina knew that look. "Yes, Finn, I was, actually. And what I remember is Dave accidentally saying something offensive, and you taking that as justification to beat him to a pulp. You've said plenty of accidentally offensive things too, Finn, and no one's beaten you up."

Finn swallowed and glanced at Kurt, shifting to his other foot.

Rachel spoke again to the entire room. "How can we expect Dave to be able to change his views if we don't give him a chance?"

"That _is _a fair point," Blaine said reluctantly.

At long last, Kurt stepped forward. "So give him a chance," he said to Rachel. "Don't do all of his talking for him." He turned to Dave, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

Tina could see Dave tense up a little now that the spotlight was suddenly on him. "Um, I just... I know that me saying sorry doesn't exactly mean anything any more, but I'd still like to say it. I'm sorry for what I said; I really am. Not just 'cause Finn beat me up, but because it hurt your feelings. And honestly, I've been a real jackass. Actually, that probably doesn't even come close to covering it." There were a few murmurs of agreement, but Dave plowed on. "But I hope that some of you, at least, can give me a chance, like Rachel said. And you were right, Mr. Schue, I was just scared of looking stupid. So, in order to show you that I can get over that, I want to perform for you guys."

There was a loud snort from the bleachers, and all eyes turned to see Puck quickly look up at the ceiling in an attempt to look innocent.

Dave hesitated, but forced himself to continue. "I guess maybe if I can get over looking dumb, I can get over some other stuff too," he finished.

Mr. Schue finally decided to step in. "Okay, Dave," he said. "Show us what you've got."

Tina took her seat again, wondering why the hell Rachel had to be so damn logical.

* * *

><p>Rachel pulled copies of the sheet music for their number out of her binder and handed them to the band guys as Dave, Mr. Schue, and a couple of the other guys worked to move all the costumes, props, and the folding work table off to the sides of the room so that there was space enough on the floor to move around. Finally, Schuester and the boys sat down on the bleachers and waited for Dave and Rachel to start.<p>

Dave took a deep breath, remembering what Rachel had said - "Just give it your all, and you'll be fine" - and signalled to the band dudes to start.

"_I hate this place! I can barely keep the misery off my face!_" he began, and he could see most of the other kids quirk their eyebrows, wondering if this was some weird attempt to insult them even further.

"_Yeah, there's one place I'd much rather be,_" Rachel chimed in, a hand on her hip and an award-winning smile on her face.

"_Taking Transfiguration and Arithmancy, and hanging with my friends in the Owlery_," Dave sang, watching as surprise and mild amusement crossed his audience's faces. The tune didn't have a lot of variation and was easy to sing, which made it so much less nerve-wracking to be the center of attention. Feeling a little more confident, he kept up the rhythm. "_But instead I'm learning parts of speech, and trying not to fall asleep, and avoiding the only girl in school who might like me..._"

Santana laughed a little more loudly than she should have at that.

"_It's so grotesque,_" Rachel started in on the second verse. "_When the guy sitting next to me drools all over his desk - and I almost raise my hand to complain..._"

"_But then I realize that I wanna be doing the same,_" Dave cut in. "_So I put my head down on my desk as well. And suddenly I'm learning a spell to make my teacher's head swell, but then he wakes me up and I can't help but yell..._"

"_ENGORGIO!_" Rachel cried, pumping her fist in the air. At this point, most of the other kids had relented their stony expressions and were laughing along with the song.

"_You know what's gross,_" sang Dave. "_When the lunch meat looks like three-day-old soggy toast. But as I ate it anyway I overheard, this guy I hardly know calling me a nerd, so I cast Sectum Sempra on him inside my mind._"

"_I wish there were House Elves making my food,_" Rachel sang wistfully. "_And everything was perfectly spiced, and the only one being rude was the poltergeist. And here's what's true-_"

"_I'd do pretty much anything to go to wizard school! I'd even call Delores Umbridge my friend..._"

"_...if it meant I never had to go to gym again, but I look around at all of this crap that's part of my life._" Rachel slumped her shoulders and feigned misery. "_No ghosts stalking the halls-_"

"_-or hanging in the bathroom stalls, and the stairs don't move, 'cause there's no stairs at all!_"

Dave and Rachel joined voices to sing the chorus. "_This isn't Hogwarts! This is a concrete box, and the pictures on the wall are never gonna talk, and the teachers don't care that the kids don't try, and the most magical thing we have is flourescent lights!_"

"_And they don't put you in Hufflepuff if you're not cool-_" sang Rachel, and they began to alternate lines.

"_Instead they sort you in the parking lot after school-"_

"_And I think if I looked into the Mirror of Erised-_"

"_I'd be wearing wizard robes with gold and red..._"

"_I'm not saying I'm not proud to be a nerd,_" shrugged Rachel.

"_But public school ain't no place for a wizard_," agreed Dave.

"_Yeah, public school ain't no place for a wizard!_" they sang in unison. "_Public school ain't no place for a wizard!_"

The final drum beat of the song was hit, and Rachel giggled as she took a bow. Mr. Schue was laughing and standing up as he clapped, and about three-quarters of the other kids were clapping as well. The remaining few who were refusing to clap were Puck, Finn, Mercedes, and Lauren, and all of them except for Finn were clearly trying to hide their amusement. Only Finn was sitting at the back, his arms crossed and a scowl etched into his face.

Kurt stepped forward, his hands on his hips. "Well, I have to say, if that had been taped, Jacob Ben Israel would have absolutely ruined your reputation," he laughed. Shaking his head, he held out his hand. "Apology accepted. At least for now."

Dave grinned, relieved, and shook his hand. A couple of the other kids whooped and clapped.

What little tension was left was shattered by a statement from Brittany. "Wait, I thought a Hufflepuff was a kind of hamster..."

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><p><strong>AN: On a technical note, this number was actually surprisingly difficult to write because there was no choreography to describe, so I kind of felt like I was copy/pasting the lyrics, which is really at the absolute top of the list of Things Not To Do When Writing Fanfiction. Still, the mental picture of Karofsky and Rachel singing that song together is endlessly amusing, so I still had a lot of fun.**

**Credit for the song, titled "This Isn't Hogwarts", goes to Hank Green in all his incredible Nerdfighter awesomeness. Does he know that I used his song? Nope. Do I want him to know? HELL YES. If people could send this link to him, that would be TOTALLY AWESOME. Oh, and review too. That would be nice.**

**DFTBA! I'm off to make bread.**


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